My Name is FATE
by chay.fae16
Summary: It's the Autumn Equinox, and a new fairy has been born. Everyone is wondering what her talent will be-a weaving-talent? A cooking-talent? But Prilla, the most-recently-Arrived fairy, is wishing to gain another fairy for her talent, the mainland-visiting clapping-talent, because she is the only one. But when Noma Arrives, she is more than what she seems...


The day before the autumn equinox, a tremor went through Never Land.

Everyone on the island felt it, of course, but no one knew what it was—except for the fairies of Pixie Hollow.

Every fairy and sparrowman in all of Pixie Hollow stilled as the island shook ever so slightly. Then, simultaneously, they erupted in a massive cheer.

That tremor meant that Never Land was shifting on the waves, heading for the mainland.

It meant that a baby had just laughed for the first time, and now a new fairy was going to Arrive.

Since autumn had already been delivered on the mainland, they all dropped the various tasks they had been doing—be it cooking, weaving, painting, whatever—and gathered with their talent to discuss preparations for the new Arrival.

Obviously, everyone wanted to gain the new fairy. The weaving talent had just lost two fairies and a sparrowman, and the cooking talents could always use more help in the Home Tree kitchen. But no one wished for the new fairy as much as Prilla did.

Prilla had arrived just six months before, and at the time, she had had no clue what her talent was. For a while she even thought that she didn't have _any_ talent at all. Eventually, she discovered that she had a completely new talent—a mainland-visiting clapping-talent fairy.

But Prilla was the only one in her talent, and even though she was an honorary member of all the others, she often felt quite lonely.

In addition to that, the last two weeks hadn't been her best. The three fairies that the weaving-talent had lost had died of disbelief. As the only clapping-talent fairy, it was Prilla's job to blink to the mainland and keep children believing in fairies—and all of Never Land. Though the weavers had told her that it wasn't her fault, Prilla was convinced that it was. Ever since then, she had been blinking to the mainland more than ever—sometimes she even skipped breakfast in order to have extra time to make more blinks.

At the time of the tremor, Prilla had been on a blink to the girl who was her laughter—the girl who made Prilla what she was—Sara Quirtle.

Prilla oftentimes visited Sara to see how she was doing, since it was due to a little piece of Sara's imagination that made Prilla a clapping-talent. With that piece gone, Sara had been incomplete, and it was Prilla's wish on a wand that had helped complete her.

Prilla could never stay very long, but today she had stayed for almost an hour talking to Sara about what was going on. Sara was a very good listener, and when Prilla had finished, she said, "Prilla, if the weavers said that it's okay, then it's okay, right?"

"Well…I suppose so," said Prilla.

"Then you don't have to be sad anymore," Sara said matter-of-factly. "I don't want my fairy to be sad."

Prilla smiled, and was about to thank Sara when her hair was brushed away from her face. She looked up, expecting to see Sara playing with it, as she sometimes did. But Sara's hands were on the chains of her swing.

Prilla flew up from Sara's lap as quick as she could. "Never Land is calling to me," she told Sara apologetically. "I have to go."

"Why?" Sara asked curiously. "Did something bad happen?"

Prilla lifted her head to the sky in thought. Then, once again, that invisible breeze ruffled her hair—but this time, Prilla could hear something in it.

It was…laughter?

Prilla gasped. "It's a baby's laugh! A new fairy's been born!"

"Yay!" Sara clapped as hard as she could as she started to swing. "Then I'll keep clapping so it'll be a good fairy, like you."

Prilla turned a midair somersault, waved at Sara, and blinked away.

* * *

Back in her room, Prilla was looking through her dresses, trying to pick one for the new fairy's Arrival Party. All the while, she turned the last thing Sara had said over and over in her mind.

_A good fairy, like you._

_Like me, huh?_ She thought. Absentmindedly, she pulled out her own Arrival Day dress—a soft pink blouse and skirt made of rose petals.

_I'll keep clapping so it'll be a good fairy, like you._

"I sure hope so, Sara," Prilla said out loud. "I hope it'll be a good clapping-talent fairy, like _me._"


End file.
